


Poison Touch

by Anonymous



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Dysfunctional Relationship, F/M, Modern AU, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Policeman Armin, Rough Sex, Self-Loathing, Smut, Underworld Annie, kinda hate sex but also not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The city is edging near a certain doom and Armin needs help from a controversial source. But she’s not one to do things for nothing in return.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68
Collections: Anonymous





	Poison Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to explore Armin and Annie in a more toxic relationship than they currently are in cannon. If that makes some uncomfortable, then this is your warning. Let me know what you guys think!

The traffic honks and roar of the city ache Armin’s head more than usual tonight. He’s queasy, unsure if he can handle the stress his work has imposed upon him. He opens the door to his small one-story apartment and throws the keys into the empty ashtray close by. 

_“Fifty murders all in a span of three months,”_ Captain Erwin informed his police force, _“The city is in peril and we’re close to a civil war. If we don’t get our hands around what the mafia are planning, our city will devolve into disarray and crumble.”_

Armin runs his hands over his cheekbones, lost in memories filled with urgency and crime-scene pictures of the deceased. After five months of long nights, overtime, and a car seat which hurts his ass and hurts to sleep in, he’s come up with nothing. Every time he thinks he has an advantage—advances his plans through the most tight-lipped people he has—the crooks slip away. Now there’s more girls in dumpsters, more henchmen showing up in refrigerated trucks. There’s a culture shift happening and the body count is piling. As if Armin wasn’t getting any sleep before, now he's lucky to rest three hours every two days. 

They’re running out of time.

“You should have joined the syndicate when you had the chance,” a voice comments close by, “At least you could have afforded a luxury apartment than this shabby place.”

Armin jolts. His hand flies down and clutches the gun in his holster, “Who are you? Show yourself!”

At a slow, calculated pace, the chair at his work desk turns around. Donned in a black dress, her hair bunched and clipped in a tight knot is _her._ Armin frowns immediately. 

“...You know better than to meet me at my own home.”

Annie rests her cheek against her hand, “I do but listening to you gets boring. Plus, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you or since you’ve asked for me.”

“I asked for your _help._ Not your company.”

Annie feigns disappointment, “How hurtful. I expected that a gentleman like yourself would know how to treat a woman better.”

“All forms of etiquette are ignored when it comes to criminals. Especially you.”

“How hurtful _and_ black and white of you, Armin.”

Armin shakes his head, not wanting to argue when his head pounds so much, “Did you get what I asked of you?”

Annie huffs, crossing her arms tighter, “Always down to the root of the issue, aren’t you?”

“Did you get it or not?”

Annie sighs, bored. Her fingers slip into the crease between her breasts and pulls out a small USB drive. 

“Through an overexcited man, I may have been able to scrounge up a few things. I even needed to buy this dress just to tempt him—I don’t ever do that. But this stupid thing was expensive. So, where’s my payment, Arlert?”

“...I’ll work something out. There are items in the evidence lockers which I can replace and sell on the black market. I’ll need time though.”

A sly smile slides up the side of Annie’s lips, “Morally grey with everything else except me then?”

Armin can’t look at her in the eye. Not after everything which has happened. He still sees her as the beautiful police cadet she was when they were in the Academy together. His skin tingles and his heart beats as quick as hummingbird wings. But he has to cancel his feelings out—he _needs_ to. 

“Then maybe there’s some other way…” Annie stands, her high heels clomping as she advances toward him, “In how you can pay me back.” 

In all the years he’s known Annie, he’s never seen her wear a dress or _those_ kinds of heels before, though he gets it: when one works in the market of trading and stealing secrets, Annie has to use all weapons at her disposal, mentally and physically, 

Armin’s hand stays on his gun handle but he walks backward whilst Annie approaches, “I’m armed and can have a squad here in under five minutes.”

The clomping of her shoes grows louder, “Then shoot me or let your buddies come.”

“Annie, I’m _warning you_.”

“And I’m _telling you._ Call them. Let them come or shoot me. You think this is the first time I’ve had to slip away on short notice?”

Armin’s back bumps against a wall just as Annie’s chest almost presses against his own; her eyes are so laser-focused on him, she probably doesn’t even notice. 

“You want to know,” She whispers, sultry and _so tempting._ Where did she learn how to speak like _that?_ “Don’t you? How you can pay me back.”

Armin’s heartbeat pounds at his ribcage while having her so close. Her lips are fuller than he remembers, her hair longer and shines so dazzling in the light, he can’t breathe again. His head spasms with more pain.

“Annie...we _can’t”_

“Not even for an old friend?”

Armin frowns. _She_ is not welcome here, not in his home and not in his heart anymore. But having her close brings back the warm prickle in his muscles, that _need._ Her perfume is alluring, her body hypnotizes every inch of his vision and rushes blood into his groin. Annie grabs the front of his pants and he yips; by the glint in her eye, she’s happy to find that even after all the shit between them, Armin still gets a raging boner for her. 

“If you want my intel,” she whispers, her voice husky and breath hot on his lips, “I always require payment...but yours doesn’t have to be money, Armin,” his lips don’t move when her tongue traces against his bottom lip, “That’s an offer I don’t give to everyone.”

“Except stupider targets.” 

Annie sneers a fraction, “If it’s needed for a job, yea...but they’re never on top. And your dick was always my most favorite ride.”

Armin slams the back of his head on the wall, grunting from all-over strain. He doesn’t like resorting to using the underworld to get the upper hand on the mob but _she_ was the sole contact who could get the information he needed while simultaneously keeping it a secret. But Annie Leonhardt doesn’t operate without getting some form of payback and as much as Armin hates himself for it, he’s excited at having her so close.

Stress thunders against his temples. He’s half-delirious from lack of sleep. Annie stares at him with eyes which were always brisk like the chill of winter twilight and filled with the soul of the lonely moon. That _hand_ stroking his rock-hard groin still has the same strength too.

The stressed cogs in his brain stutter then finally cease. Armin groans.

Ah.

_Fuck it._

He rams his mouth against Annie’s so hard, her head tilts back. Annie purrs in triumph, arches minorly from his hands grabbing her waist. He tugs up her dress faster than a frantic teenager and her hands yank apart his police shirt. She wears no brassiere for the sake of easy access, view, and grip. _He_ is chiseled and lean, the squares of his pecs more uprisen and cut than last she remembered. Her nipples bend from the force of their chests slamming together. Their heated kissing continues, their tongues clumsy and noses mashing when their faces become misaligned.

For years she’s thought of what he does now—Armin’s fingernails scratching red lines down her back, dipping into her panties to cup and squeeze her ass. She lusts to feel his fingers fuck her silly, stretch her open wide while he sucks her clit like he used to. Her kissing turns brutal with want, nimble hands clawing down to his chest. She hasn’t been this exhilarated to sit on a cock in ages, to slowly and smoothly feel her body open up for a dick which stuffs and stretches her cunt until she’s a stupefied mess. She chases her desires and unbuttons Armin’s pants, unzips and reaches inside. A groan shoots down Annie throat when she fishes out her steel-hard prize. 

His cock leaks profusely with pre-come and Annie’s more than willing to fall on her knees and suck him dry, but she came here for a bigger score. She yanks him back by the open flaps of his blue shirt and he follows her with enthusiasm. 

“ _Eager,”_ Annie mocks, smirking. Just as she sits on the bed, Armin falls against her, propped up by his arms, “You always did have a fire in you.”

Armin averts his eyes— _still,_ he’s such a shy boy in his twenty-four-year-old heart, “Shut up and turn around.”

Annie’s next chuckle turns husky and dark, “Not even foreplay?”

Armin’s cheeks are red and cerulean eyes which once brought peace to her are dilated and muddy. A not unpleasant prickle rakes along Annie’s skin.

A back of the throat growl tumbles out his lips, “I said turn around.”

The demand in his words makes Annie wetter. She complies, twists around from the push he applies to her hip, stumbles onto the bed until she’s on her hands and knees. There’s a frantic rustling of clothes behind her. Annie quivers as Armin rests on her, hard and warm against her back and ass and the backs of her widely spread thighs.

The heat and hardness of his cock has Annie shuddering harder, admiring how it thumps against the slice of her lips before sliding back, the head lining up with her soaked cunt. He pushes in quicker than expected and Annie squeaks. She’s been taking dick since her teenage years—with _him_ actually being her first— but never did they screw like this, when he has her bottom-up and she’s just a tight hole to fuck, her body jolting from punishing thrusts. She wasn’t prepared enough either—the sharp sting of Armin’s girth overrides the pleasure for some seconds but her clients have done worse; Armin remains to be the gentlest out of those who have fucked her. A high whine shakes out of Annie as he pounds into her, their skin slap-slap-slapping together so roughly, she drips more and the slick escapes down the back of her legs. Armin holds her in place with one arm around her torso, his other hand darting under her navel to move as hard and fast as his cock. Annie shrieks, high and sharp from each stroke of his fingertip on her clit. 

Armin stops and bends down to her ear, “ _Hush._ I don’t usually have visitors this late.” 

“What the hell are, ah, _you_ going to do about it?” she pants, breathless, “Big-time Detective Armin can’t get a date, so maybe, _fuck,_ you sound like a moaning girl when you jerk off at night. Tell your stupid neighbors _that.”_

“You look like you need this more than me,” his breath against the shell of her ear is so hot, the tightness of her reactive squeeze is enough to have Armin grunt mid-sentence, “I can, _agh,_ stop anytime I want.”

Annie smirks inwardly. Maybe he can but his shaft is pulsing as much as she unconsciously clenches, an all too familiar hint for her that he’s close to bursting too.

Her messy-haired head twists until just the side of her face shows, “But will you?”

His dilated eyes narrow but Armin doesn’t answer. Annie stares right back, unflinching but wondering if the bull she’s egging on is going to charge forward again. Armin and his damn principles always did get in the way.

Armin pulls back from her. Annie hears him hiss to himself, “ _Damn it_ ,” 

Annie’s breath catches from his ruthless push forward. Her eyes shut tight, the hard thwaps against her backside ringing out around the room again. He’s far more aggressive than his teenage-self and admittedly, Annie’s turned on even more—Armin can tell. He’s never stopped wanting her and somehow, she’s more beautiful like this, when he can admire the strength and curve of her back while he turns her into a moaning mess. Armin wishes being fucked this hard was the only punishment Annie needed; he’d do this to her happily if she wanted it. But too many are dead; he ignored too many signs. All because of a rare smile and kindness hiding in grey-blue eyes, he chose to be ignorant. And all the blame is on _him._

He fucks into her harder, faster and Annie digs her fingers and toes into the sheets for anchorage, shoves her ass against him to throw it back just as hard. The obscene chant of his pelvis ramming her ass and her counterthrusts picks up in noise, each topped off with her short, sharp shouts and Armin’s moans. Her muscles squeeze him hard enough to push him out and Annie wishes she slapped Armin when he threatened to arrest her; maybe then he’d pull her hair or twist her arm to hold her against the bed and she would come ten-times harder. His face falls into the crook of her neck and his lips brush against her throat so briefly, Annie’s heart quickens; she has a flashback to when he sang her praises, kissed her lovingly and she can admit she truly did love him back then, even if he doesn’t believe her. His thrusts are getting short and harder now. Her arousal mixed with Armin’s leaks down the creases of her cunt, dribbles onto the bed. Then he gives her a change— his fingernail gives an ever-so-slight skim of its hard edge on her clit. Her gasp this time is sharp and high and she’s shaking like she’s on the ground from an earthquake. The blue of the sheets she presses her forehead against flashes to white.

In the high of coming, she can hear Armin’s deep groaning. He punches in a half-dozen thrusts before Annie whimpers and gasps; there’s a hot stream deep inside her and his sticky seed spills out, adding to the mess on the back of her legs. His thrusts lose their power, and when Annie makes a whimper of discomfort, Armin stops. His arms are braced around her waist and his cheek rests on the crown of Annie’s head as he wheezes, desperate for breath.

Annie sighs—she hasn’t come so hard in ages. Her legs and cunt tremble from her hard fucking and from how lax Armin is against her, he’s just as sexually relieved as her. Finally, both their breaths even out. He removes his limp cock from Annie.

“And you always looked like such a passive thing,” Annie pants, the shadow of a sneer on her lips, “Glad to see everyone was wrong while I’m right, _again_.” 

Armin’s bangs have fallen over his eyes. He gets up by his knees and twists his back to her. He stands and pulls his pants back up. 

In a low but damaged voice, he says, “...thanks for the help. But you should leave now.”

Her eyebrow quirks up, “Not even a kiss goodbye?”

“Annie…” she can hear it—pain laced around every letter of her name, “Please...just go...”

Somehow, her itch to get under someone’s skin erodes when she’s with him. Annie complies. They had a deal so she sets the USB he needs on his nightstand. She slips on her peacoat and exits the apartment, leaving the quiet man alone.

Perhaps if he knew why she did what she did, he’d understand. Armin was always someone she could talk to and she regrets not speaking up sooner, before it became too late. No amount of power, influence, or money which she’s been exposed to makes up for the days when she laid her head in Armin’s lap, allowing herself to be embraced and loved, to feel safe.

“ _You’re not meant for that kind of life,”_ her mind reminds herself, _“And your chances with him are gone.”_

Annie buttons up her pea coat up to her neck and walks back into the dark. 


End file.
